


Whomping Willow

by WonderBoyRoss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock BBC, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Potterlock, Teenlock, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-17 21:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9345899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderBoyRoss/pseuds/WonderBoyRoss
Summary: Sherlock's 5th year starts with hell, but what will happen when John Watson enters his life?"How haven't I seen you around?""I'm nobody."





	1. I - Redbeard.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Hogwarts at last.

**Sherlock**

_"Why are you doing this?" He snarled, looking his brother up and down in disgust. He ignored the stinging pain in his eyes. He hated this. This whole conversation._

_"You're the most intelligent student that gets bullied about it and has no one to stand up for you. I do believe it's time for you to move on and find a real friendship. You know, with real people. Find people to save you." A reply quite frank, yet filled with emotion which flooded through the empty office._

_See, the two brothers were having quite the argument – and they hadn't had one in a while._

_The elder one, Mycroft Holmes, had called upon his younger brother, Sherlock Holmes, for a…talk._

_"Redbeard is sick, Sherlock. We can't save him." Mycroft sighed as he got up from his chair to stare out the window. He hated seeing his little brother in pain._

_"Then try harder. Save him, please. For me. I can't handle his loss before school." Sherlock's monotone voice cracked as he spoke, his heartache leaking from his throat out and twisting into his words._

_"I'm sorry, Sherlock." Mycroft turned back around, wanting to show and give compassion to the younger. But he knew he'd get rejected._

_Sherlock’s face scrunched up, and he turned away from Mycroft. He let out his sobs as he ran out of the room, slamming the doors along the way._

_He ran back to his bedroom. Redbeard picking his head up to look at the distraught Sherlock. His tail wagged and stopped, and he got up, going over to comfort his Sherlock._

_"They're gonna put you down, Redbeard. They're gonna put you down..." He choked the words between sobs, rubbing Redbeard’s ears and kneeling down in front of him._

_"Why did it have to be you? Anyone but you... you're my best friend...” Sherlock rested his forehead on top of Redbeard’s, his tears soaking into Redbeard’s fur._

_His pup looked up at him, licking a few tears from his face. He didn't understand why Sherlock was crying, but he didn't like it._

_The door creaked a bit, and Sherlock turned around and protected his dog in defence._

_"Please, please don't take him!" His cries were loud and painful, breaking him more and more from the inside out._

_"I'm sorry Sherl, we have to." His mother smiled sadly, taking a step forward._

_"No! Please... please don't take him from me... He’s my best friend... My only friend...” Sherlock hugged Redbeard, his arm tightening around the confused dog._

_"Sherlock, let go of him." His father’s stern voice kicked in, provoking Sherlock and causing more aggressive sobs into the pups fur._

_"I can't...” The pain in his voice is so obvious, even the most idiotic person could tell how much his heart was breaking._

_His father sent Mycroft in, who tried very calmly to undo his little brother’s tight grip._

_"Get off me!" His retched cry made him loosen up, giving Mycroft the chance to hold Sherlock away._

_Their mother grabbed Redbeard by the collar, slowly persuading him out of Sherlock’s bedroom._

_"Let go of him! Give him back!" He screamed and he cried, pleading and begging for Redbeard to stay._

_Sherlock recoiled, enveloping himself into Mycroft’s comforting hug and pats._

_His loud and horrible sobs echoed through the room and out the door, going through the hall and around the house. Tears were blurring his vision, and he couldn't breathe._

_He choked on his own sobs and wiped his face. The youngest then ripped himself out of the hug and ran to his bathroom, leaning over the toilet and retching into the bowl._

_The tears burnt and his throat ached, the emotions were overwhelming. His only friend was just stolen away from him, and nobody helped._

_The eldest slowly walked over, kneeling next to Sherlock and rubbing his back with sympathy._

_"I truly am sorry, I know how much you adored Redbeard. He was your best friend. I'm sorry we took him away." Mycroft’s voice was soft and calm, and he was as sincere as he possibly could be._

_"Sherlock."_

_"Sherlock!"_

_"Wake up!"_

Sherlock’s eyes snapped open. His elder brother was leaning over him, staring at his face.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock looked away and out the window. They hadn't even left yet.

"You were fading out. Redbeard, again?" The eldest sighed, walking back and leaning against the compartment entrance.

"Yes, what's it to you?" Sherlock didn't bare to look over at Mycroft.

"I care for you, brother mine." He brushed off his jacket slightly, then sighed. "I'll be off. Anthea is expecting me."

"Yeah, whatever." The elder Ravenclaw walked off, his echoing footsteps being joined by many others, all clearly scurrying to find an empty compartment before the train took off.

Sherlock looked out the window, observing everyone and what they were doing. Some parents were gripping their child’s shoulder and grinning brightly, wheres some were waving into the train. He saw some hands sticking out the windows, waving back.

He looked around his compartment, still the cozy little one he’d sat in for the previous years. The seats looked new though, the material was cleaner. The walls had been polished, along with the bag rack at the top. 

Students walked past, looking into the compartment before a look of disgust was plastered upon their face. They all continued walking, knowing of the boy in there. Some Hufflepuffs gave smiles of pity, which Sherlock paid no attention to. 

Less and less students were passing by, and Sherlock began feeling his arms getting stiff. He stretched them out and rubbed his face, feeling his cheeks were wet and realising they were tears.

He needed to stop this, stop crying. Stop feeling again. He couldn’t stand it.

But he just sobbed even more.

Eventually he raised his long legs up and wrapped his arms around them, crying into his knees, hunched in the corner of the seat. Until he heard footsteps right outside the door.

Sherlock quickly wiped his face, trying to rid of evidence that he ever showed any emotion. The little breaths that he took were cold and sharp, and his throat burned with even more held in tears.

"Are you, um, expecting anyone?" Somebody asked from the door

Sherlock turned his head slightly, when he looked out from the corner of his eye he saw two boys were awkwardly shuffling in place. He looked them up and down, deducing them both.

_The front boy's a muggle-born, Gryffindor. His girlfriend has been cheating on him for the past two months and he has no idea. He's aiming for a muggle job; detective inspector to be specific. His family is proud to have a wizard in the family, not caring that he's failing most classes. He plays Quidditch and is the best chaser of the house. G. Lestrade on suitcase his suitcase, but G for what?_

Sherlock moved onto the next boy in a split second, not taking much time with Lestrade.

_The boy behind Lestrade, much more interesting. He's also muggle-born, but a Hufflepuff. Disappointed that he's not in Gryffindor, but has a sibling in the same house so he hoped he could hang with them. But, alas, that didn't work. All his current friends - except one or two - are in Gryffindor. He's aiming for non-magical job too - army doctor. He has major family issues. There's an abusive family member... Sibling? If the sibling was a brother it could be them, but there's no motive. Sister then, but too weak for lots of bruises and pain. Must be a male, maybe an uncle? No, must be father. He's there all the time, excluding work. He has no uncles. John Watson. A Hufflepuff Quidditch beater._

"No, you can sit." Sherlock voice was weak and drained, his throat scratching while he spoke.

The two boys walked in silently, staring down Sherlock. Had they noticed his puffy and red eyes? Sherlock hoped they weren't too obvious. 

There was an awkward silence filling the compartment, the two boys not feeling comfortable enough with a stranger to chat their own conversation. 

"Does he know?" Sherlock spoke suddenly, making the two boys jump ever so slightly at his deep monotone voice.

"Sorry?" The Hufflepuff - who Sherlock notes is John - questioned, rather unnerved by the motive of conversation. Sherlock notices the slight wave in his hair. _He keeps himself tidy, unlike Lestrade, who’s hair is ruffled and unkept. Although, it wasn't just Lestrade's hair that was unkept. His shirt was untucked, and the top button was undone._

"Does your friend know about your father?" Sherlock turned his head and looked John in the eye, his pupils shrinking and his skin paling.

"What- what do you mean?" His voice shook, clearly indicating he hadn't heard of this boy before.

"You know what I mean.” Sherlock continued. “Does he know? If not, you should tell him. He's looking rather odd, he doesn't know then. You're going to have to talk about it someday with him, so why not now? You're doing a lousy job in hiding your shoulder."

Sherlock’s deductions made him feel better. Maybe the two could inflict physical pain on him so he could ignore his emotional pain. He was practically begging to be hurt.

"How the hell could you know what my father does to me?!" John raised his voice, clearly angered and frightened by Sherlock.

"The way you keep adjusting you sleeves, your obvious paranoia. It's plain as day to me, but to someone idiotic and ordinary they're absolutely oblivious. No, no don't be offended, everyone's an idiot, not just you two." There was no annoyance on their faces, it had all been replaced with shock. 

Sherlock looked back out the window to notice that the glass was completely painted with water, and he realised that they left the station a few minutes ago. He got carried away with his deductions - again.

Just as John cleared his throat (an indication that he was going to clear the silence) multiple people were heard at the door.

"Well freak, looks like you've got some new friends! Try not to scare them, will you?" Donovan's voice filled the compartment, and Sherlock didn't bother looking at his usual taunter. 

"Oh for god sakes Donovan, can you leave me alone for once? Go shag Anderson or something." Sherlock sighed, turning his head to look at their group. 

_Her hair was out of control, puffing up yet falling over her shoulders. Her group was horrid - Slytherins, who failed their classes but always got out of detentions, their clothes and robes dirty and not recently washed. They liked to be high and mighty, terrifying the first years and all those bellow them._

Though, when he looked toward them, their eyes widened and glee flashed throughout them. 

_Oh no_.

He forgot he'd been crying before.

"The freak has emotions! He actually cried? Hah! Next extraordinary thing we'll see is him eating... What bullocks is that?!" The group howled with laughter, and Sherlock was waiting for Lestrade and John to join in.

"Oi, shove off will ya? He's obviously having a rough time." Lestrades rough voice filled the room, taking Sherlock by surprise. No one had ever stood up for him before - other than Mycroft.

"Defending the freak? You mustn't know him all that well then. Well I've got some advice for you two: stay away from Sherlock Holmes. He's a psychopath." After that they walked away, nudging each other and snickering between them.

"Who were they?" John asked, hesitating and looking at Sherlock.

"Sally Donovan, Philip Anderson, and some of their little minions or whatever. Old... friends." The sarcasm clearly dripped from his tongue, almost as if it were visible with how sarcastic his voice was.

"How long have they done that for?" John continued talking, voicing both his and Lestrade’s thoughts.

"Bullying? Oh, since first grade. Haven't given up, they just need to entertain themselves with my suffering. Although their useless insults don't effect me." Sherlock looked back out the window, trying to act fascinated in the rain.

But it was just the usual cycle. Rain falls, it flows to the ocean, the sun hits it, it evaporates, and goes back into the clouds and just repeats. Useless grade one knowledge. 

"Oh, by the way, I'm the freak, hi, Sherlock Holmes." He was answered by silence, and could basically hear a so-called silent agreement between John and Lestrade.

"I'm-"

"John Watson and something Lestrade. Pleasure to meet you and all that jazz." Sherlock still didn't look at the two, afraid they'd actually be smart enough to see the new tears refilling his eyes. He audibly gulped, trying to keep his feelings away and destroying his emotions back down to a deep pit somewhere inside him.

"How did you know our names?" Lestrade questioned, not telling Sherlock his first name.

"Your suitcases." He smirked to himself - anyone could see that.

"Oh." Was Lestrade’s response, clearly stumped.

"Also, are you okay? Stupid question, but... you seem to have been crying before and-" John started with concern written into his voice and worry on his face. Although Sherlock wasn't looking, he could still tell.

"That's none of your business." Sherlock snapped, yelling at the two and making them jump slightly. He felt the slightest bit bad, since these were the only two to ever help him, but he wasn't up for sharing with a few people he only just met.

A creak of the door signified that another person had arrived, and Sherlock groaned. If it was another person he didn't know he would lose it. Two new people were enough.

"Don't worry brother mine, it's just me." Mycroft's voice was heard and Sherlock groaned louder. Couldn't people just leave him  _alone_.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock finally turned his head, looking Mycroft in the eye. The elder saw the tiniest red in his brother’s eye, and a slight wave of guilt and pain hit him.

"It's time to get changed into your robes. I knew you would forget, you are distracted by Red-"

"Yes, that's quite enough Mycroft." Sherlock snapped once again, he didn't want to start crying again before the sorting ceremony. Mycroft didn't look any more provoked, but he stepped toward Sherlock and leaned into his ear.

"Do try and make more friends. You will need them this year, you do realise?" Mycroft straightened back up, rubbing his brother’s shoulder and walking away.

Sherlock huffed and stood up, changing into his robes and indicating for the two other boys to do the same.

"Who was that?" One of them asked.

"My older brother Mycroft Holmes, also the Ravenclaw prefect." Sherlock answered, knowing that the two would have no idea about who his brother was.

"Ah, right, I've seen him around, I think." Lestrade chuckled at John's mumbling, he felt awkward in this situation. Sherlock didn't seem easy to be friends with.

After the three changed into their robes, they all sat down. John and Lestrade seemed more comfortable, comfortable enough to have their own conversation. They were talking about Quidditch – which didn't seem like a surprise.

Sherlock didn't care to join, because he felt that sport was unnecessary. Although that might just be his non-sporty self talking, he just didn't see the point in sport.

***

The train had stopped at Hogwarts, and everyone had gotten off. Hagrid’s loud voice boomed over everything, trying to get all the new students attention.

Sherlock felt good to be home.

All students other than the first years headed toward the boats and separated into their groups. Sherlock wondered who he'd be with this time - last year is was Donovan. What joy.

He waited until there were three or two people left and it could not be more coincidental - it was the two from the train.

Sherlock couldn't believe it, but he didn't want to be left behind. As much as he dreaded this year, Hogwarts was his home. He loved the place, just not the students.

"John, Lestrade, wait up!" He sped up, walking faster over to the two getting on the last boat together.

"Oh, Sherlock. Care to join us?" John smiled, his eyes full with care. It made Sherlock feel warm inside. No one ever looked at him like that.

"If you two are okay with it. You two also have the last boat. As much as I'm in no way ready for this year, I'd rather not miss it. I consider Hogwarts my home." Sherlock sighed internally, wishing he hadn't said anything now.

"You're not the only one. Jump in." Lestrade smiled too, both of the boys scooting over so that there was enough room for a third.

"Thank you two." He carefully stepped on, knowing that he wouldn't effect the weight on the boat. Sherlock was skin and bones, weighing so little. He didn't care, eating just wasn't his thing.

They floated over the water, and John and Lestrade laughed about whatever they were talking about. 

Sherlock looked over the edge of the boat, putting his hand into the water and feeling it calm him.

The water always calmed Sherlock. It felt like his worries could be washed away, everything he ever feared or hated could disappear forever, going further into an unknown den in the deepest, darkest area of the undiscovered ocean.

He drew shapes in the water, seeing it ripple behind them and the lanterns light reflect on different angles of the water. It made him smile lightly, the creative waves looked gorgeous. 

He then looked up at the stars.

Even though Sherlock thought that information on the solar system was useless he couldn't help but admire it all. And although stars are just big exploding balls of gas, mostly made up of hydrogen and helium, they still looked beautiful up in the sky. He smiled to himself.

_Thank god the rain cleared up._

Once Sherlock looked back to his eye level, they were close to Hogwarts. He silently was thankful, finally at his home once again. 

"Sorry to interrupt but thank you for what you two did on the train. No one has ever done that for me before. Goodbye, I'll see you in classes."

And with that, Sherlock quickly walked away, disappearing into the crowd and walking with the group to the great hall to celebrate coming back to Hogwarts and introducing new young witches and wizards.

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A major thanks to @DownpourOfFeels for editing this for me! You're super awesome :,)


	2. II - Sherlock Holmes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who was that boy on the train?

 

**John**

 

 

 

"Sherlock Holmes. That was the boys name, right?"

John blinked multiple times, not realising he had dazed out while staring at the food. He had snuck onto the Gryffindor table, no one really noticed. And if they did, they never cared.

They were in the Great Hall, and foods of plenty were piling up on the four tables. Banners hung from the ceiling, and candles floated about. The first years were staring in awe, and some shrieked when the Hogwart's ghosts popped out from their food.

"Sorry?" John mumbled a bit, but knew Greg understood him. Greg got used to the awkward mumbling. 

"The boy on the train and boat, he did say his name was Sherlock Holmes, yes?" 

"I think so. Do you have any idea 'bout him? We could ask around." John perked up when he realised they were talking about the strange lad on the train.

"That Donovan girl said he was a freak. What house d'you reckon he's in? Do you remember his scarf or robes?" Greg tried remembering the image of a curled up Sherlock on the opposite side of the compartment. All he could remember was that mess of curls. All John could remember was his tears, hair, and height. Not proper details.

"Can't remember. Look ‘round the tables?” John offered.

“Obviously not Gryffindor. I’d know.”

“Clearly not Hufflepuff. Kindness? Off the plate. Plus, I’d know.” The two friends looked at each other and smiled.

“I call looking at the Ravenclaw table!"

“Awh not fair! I don’t want to creep at those stinkin’ Slytherins!” Greg whined, nodding his head down and almost leaning in his pudding in front of him.

“Too bad!” They laughed at each other then let their eyes stalk the two tables.

“Tall, brown hair?" Greg questioned, knowing John was better at remembering visuals.

“Yep. Good quality robes. That’s all I remember.” Greg snickered next to him, but John didn’t question. He knew that snicker - the snicker for whenever Greg was amused at Johns interest in another being. He only did that snicker when he knew John started to like someone.

“I do not like him Greg, you imbecile. I’m not gay.” John sighed, eyes still scanning the Ravenclaw table for all the taller people.

“Then how come you're so intrigued?” Greg’s smirk leaked into his words, and his elbow slightly nudged John’s rib cage.

“Someone we’ve never met who got called a freak and was crying on the train? Who wouldn’t be interested!”

“He’s not in Slytherin. No one there rings any bells in my head-“ Greg started, getting cut off by Johns yelp.

“Ah-ha!” John cheered, louder than usual but only loud enough to disturb the few people around them.

“Found him?!" 

"Ravenclaw table, at the end near the front. Alone and reading a book.” John huffed proudly and shoved a chicken leg in his mouth.

When John looked back up toward his new companion on the Ravenclaw table, some Slytherins were passing and they shoved Sherlocks head in and toward his book. He didn’t bark anything back, instead he turned his head and snarled at the group while they laughed and walked away.

“Greg, it’s the same group from the train. Seems they’re all Slytherins.” Greg hummed in reply, paying attention to Sherlock’s actions.

Sherlock slammed his book shut and stood up, smacking his knees on the table in the process. Food spilled onto some housemates of his, but Sherlock walked out of the hall and didn’t look back. His face had the slightest hint of pain written across his face, but it was straining, as if to remain neutral. His robes bellowed behind him as he marched, and nobody but John, Greg, and Mycroft paid attention to the angered student.

Mycroft got up from his seat in the group he was with and followed the younger out the door.

The two best friends looked at each other and frowned, not sure what to do. It felt inappropriate to just sit and not do anything, but they didn’t feel like they were good enough friends to go and check up on him.

So they sat and ate in their own world of silence.

***

“Wake up John! We can’t be late for our first class on our first day coming back! So get up and lets have breakfast!” Mike was shaking John awake and yelling in his face, making sure to wake John up abruptly.

“Jesus Christ Mike, I’m up, I’m up!” John shoved Mike off him as his friend laughed.

“I’ll meet you down in the common room. Don’t make me wait, there’s tarts for breakfast today!” Mike put on his trademark smile and ran out of the room.

John’s mind went straight to Sherlock.

For some awful reason, he could not stop thinking of that mysterious boy.

_Sherlock_.

What an extraordinary name.

But why was that name never heard of or mentioned before yesterday? How had he not met this peculiar student? 

More and more questions flooded throughout his mind and he was even more determined to get to know this Sherlock guy better. He wanted to befriend the stranger.

The pitter-patter on the window knocked John out of his thoughts and he remembered that Mike would be waiting for him, so he ran downstairs while tying his tie.

“Coulda been quicker mate! Class starts in 20!” Mike grinned wider then he was before, seeing John in a kerfuffle.

“You shoulda woken me up earlier then mate! Let’s go, I want to get some tarts before Nearly Headless Nick does.” John smiled ear to ear, and ran past Mike to the portrait. Mikes laugh filled the nearly-empty room, and the two exited into the maze of stairs.

“There’s never been a year where I haven’t been caught on one of these.” The two chuckle and head down a staircase.

“I’ll second that. Maybe Hufflepuffs are just unlucky?"

"Unlikely. I’d consider us the best house. Everyone disagrees, but I think we are.” 

“I’ll also second that. We’re calm and don’t get in trouble and have the best traits.”

“True that. I’ll toast it once we’re in the hall.”

John and Mike had gotten away from the stairs during the conversation and trailed down the hall, faster than usual but not so fast they were running.

As they neared a corner, they didn’t notice the elegant Ravenclaw running away from the hall until it was too late.

John and Sherlock ran into each other, both being knocked down at the intense impact. John groaned and he could’ve _sworn_ he heard Sherlock whimper a bit.

“Jesus, are you okay John?” Mike pestered, leaning down and picking John up by the arm.

“Yeah, yeah I’m all okay.” John massaged his temples a little bit before looking at the culprit. His heart ached a bit when he saw a red, puffy eyed Sherlock with books scattered all about him.

“Sherlock?!” Was all the Hufflepuff could say. He didn’t know what to do in a situation like this, so he just kneeled down in front of the Ravenclaw.

“Leave me alone!” His harsh tone bit into John a tad, but he acted like he didn’t care.

“Do you need any help? Are you okay?” John’s hushed tone was barely heard, but Sherlock heard it. He knew he did.

“I don’t need anybody’s help, I’m fine on my own! Now get out of my way!” Sherlock stood up and collected his stuff, before aggressively pushing past the other two.

“Wow. Rude much.” Mike muttered, rolling his eyes and continuing forward.

John remained silent.

***

Greg dropped the wrong ingredient in. He was meant to put in a 5 rats tails, but instead grabbed ginger roots. Ginger roots weren’t even in the ingredients of this potion!

They were currently in potions, third class of the year (their first class was Muggle Studies [shared with Gryffindor], and the second class was Defence Against The Dark Arts [which was shared with Slytherin. Hell on Earth]). Instead of writing random stuff down, they were to split into groups of twos or threes and were told to make a ‘Hair-Raising Potion’. The class was shared with Gryffindor - thankfully not Slytherins again - so when Greg and John were told to choose partners they instantly grouped.

“Greg! How the hell- those were ginger roots! Not rats tails! How did you mess that up?! Ginger roots aren’t even in this potion!” John was fuming - though trying hard not to laugh.

“I don’t know!” Greg was doubling over in laughter, he swore he could see smoke emitting from John’s ears.

“We are so going to fail this year.” John face palmed, but ended up chuckling to himself. Tears appeared in Greg’s eyes from laughing so hard, and that’s what broke John. He couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore and let out his laugh god knows how loud.

This brought attention to them, but they couldn’t stop laughing. They didn’t know what was so funny about any of this, but it was a situation where even though nothing is funny, they couldn't not laugh.

Eventually the teacher came over and gave them a detention, saying it'll be shared with three others.

“What houses?” John cleared his throat, trying to stifle his chuckles and keep a straight face when looking at the teacher. Greg wasn’t having much luck - he kept his eyes and mouth tightly shut, and was nodding way too much.

“Two Slytherin’s and a Ravenclaw. After your last class today, come to my room. You shall be polishing cauldrons and my room.”

“Doesn’t sound too b-“

“No magic.”

Greg stopped his nodding and stared at the teacher, mouth dropping like a cartoon character.

“But teach! That’s so unfair! " Greg yelled, drawing even more unwanted attention to the three.

“Okay sir, we’ll be at your classroom later.” And as that was said, the bell rung.

***

John, Greg, Mike, Mary, and Molly were all sitting in their usual group under their usual tree. They were beside the great lake, and there was the forbidden forest behind them. Hagrid’s hut was further than the lake, but closer than the river. Not many groups seemed to hang around this area anymore. 

The five were laughing and joking about, telling stories from their holidays and catching up.

“God, the garden gnomes returned again. I swear, they _never_ leave. You miss one, then the next day there’s ten trillion more!” Mike groaned and the others burst into hysterics.

“Guys, it’s not funny!” Mike kept complaining but ended up joining in. These five were a group that was always filled with glee, and if someone was sad then they’d all help each other. 

It’s a group that normally all people look for, or at least most people. Filled with laughter, yet helpful and serious when needed.

When they all calmed down, John and Greg looked at each other and both thought of the same thing; Sherlock.

“Actually, guys, Greg and I have a question.” John cleared his throat, some reason nervous about this.

“What’s up? Everything okay?” Mary was filled with concern, whereas Mike bit into his apple and stared at the two. Molly was next to Mary, and nodded when she asked.

“Do any of you three know about Sherlock?” Molly’s eyes lit up, and and a light blush spread over her cheeks.

“Sherlock, as in Sherlock Holmes?" She stuttered, but smiled and fidgeted a tad.

“Who else has a unique name like that? Yeah, Sherlock Holmes. We had to sit in the same compartment on the way here, and he seemed.. Interesting.” John looked up, and remembered back to this morning when he ran into Sherlock.

_“Leave me alone!”_

_“I don’t need anybodies help, I’m fine on my own!”_

_“Get out of my way!”_

_He had clearly been crying..._

“He looked like he had been crying, then some Slytherin group came by and called him a freak.” Greg added, and looked over at John. “Was there anything else?”

“I ran into him this morning before class actually - Mike saw, he was there.” John added, looking back down and at Mike.

“Oh, him! Rude fella if you ask me. And nope, no idea who the guy is. Mary? Molly?” Mary looked at Mike and shook her head, but Molly nodded.

“He’s fifth year, like us, and in Ravenclaw. Um, he, he’s a bit of a loner, he doesn’t really have any friends. I-I like to consider myself his friend but I don’t think that he thinks about me that way..” She looked down, the blush becoming more vibrant as she talked more about him.

“Anything else?”

“He gets bullied quite a bit by everyone, mainly the Slytherins. Sherlock has this.. ability, which allows him to know everything about you with just one look. It’s not magic though, and his older brother Mycroft can do it too.

“I share Divination with him, normally we partner up because, well.. I don't really have anyone in that class, and he says I’m the only ‘bearable’ person in the classroom. 

“He doesn’t really talk or anything like that, doesn’t really open up about himself, but he can be a sweet guy. You just need to give him a chance.. or several.” Molly finished ranting on about Sherlock, and everyone was staring at her, absorbing the information about the strange boy.

“Ooo, Molly has a crush!” Mary teased, nudging Molly in the ribs and winking. Molly blushed even more than she had been previously.

“It’s nothing! Really, he even says he’s a sociopath and most kids believe it. I don’t though, he gets very happy during divination most times. And now that you’ve said you saw him crying, I don’t believe him even more.”

“He truly is a strange one..” Greg mumbled, looking over at John. John looked at Greg and was about to say something before they were interrupted by yelling over near the lake.

“Piss off Mycroft! What’s going on with me is my own shit, and I don’t need your bloody help!”

Sherlock.

“Well, speak of the devil.” Mike chuckled, as the group turned to see the two Holmes brothers fighting on the docks.

“Of course you do Sherlock! If I bloody come into your room and see you with a needle in your arm, you very much do need my help!” 

“A needle in his arm..? Does that mean…? Oh jesus..” Mary covered her mouth, and they all understood.

“Oh thanks for that, let the whole bloody world know that! So maybe, Donovan can yell shit at me even more, so Anderson can call me worthless for another reason, so Moriarty and Moran can beat me to a pulp for even more reasons!” Sherlocks voice cracked in the last sentence.

“For christ sake Sherlock, the only group out here that can hear us is that one over there! And they’re the _good_ Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, they won’t do anything!”

The Holmes brothers looked over at the five, who all fumbled and looked down, then at each other. It was embarrassing getting caught. But what did he mean by ‘the good Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors’? 

“How the hell? They didn’t even look at us until now.” Mary mumbled, keeping her voice low.

“Told you.” Molly replied back.

“Now for the love of god Sherly, let me help you.” Mycroft’s voice got quieter as his sentence ended, and he put his hand on Sherlocks shoulder (John was looking from the corner of his eye, as were Greg and Molly).

“I-I don’t need help..” Sherlocks voice was weak, and John had to strain his ears to hear his sentence.

Sherlock put his hands up to his face, and his shoulders started shaking. Mycroft then wrapped his arms around the younger and enveloped him in a comforting hug.

That’s when they looked away.

“Poor kid..” Mary said, eyes on Johns.

“I wonder what happened for him to do that..” Greg said, more like he was talking to himself rather than anyone.

The group was silent until the next class.

***


End file.
